


Straws

by Owlship



Series: In the Middle of Our Street [2]
Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Ableism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, F/M, Max Has A Dog, Petshop AU, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Tumblr Prompt, Vaginal Sex, safe sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 14:41:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9239384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Owlship/pseuds/Owlship
Summary: It's the little things that add up.Or: People suck and Max just wants Furiosa to have nice things.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place in the [Petshop AU](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4554561) sometime during the epilogue! But it probably can be read as a stand-alone.
> 
> Written for a prompt: "...can I prompt something where maybe max and furiosa are out in public together and someone is either staring at furiosa or says something ignorant about her or them as a couple [...] what would happen? Also if they sleep together afterwards I wouldn't be mad about it! :)"
> 
> Originally posted on [tumblr](http://v8roadworrier.tumblr.com/post/154522982801/okay-so-im-not-sure-if-you-still-take-prompts-or).

It isn’t that the both of them aren’t pretty well used to it. Max knows he gets to slide under the radar a lot- on good days he can just wear a fabric brace under his pants, and no one’s the wiser- but Furiosa’s always refused to even pretend to hide her missing hand.

It’s just that the kid keeps _staring_.

He thought at first that it was because of Dog- the restaurant allows dogs on the patio and Furiosa didn’t mind him tagging along, so the greyhound’s tucked under the table with a bowl of water- but it’s not the good kind of staring, the ‘kid excited by seeing a dog’ staring. No, his eyes keep jumping around from the bare stump of Furiosa’s arm resting on the table to the brace on Max’s leg to the place where Dog’s fourth leg should be, a cycle that’s as obvious as it is obnoxious.

“Five bucks says he comes over before we get the check,” Furiosa says calmly, flicking her eyes over to the staring kid and then back to Max’s face.

He grunts in reply, and stabs down at his plate. “Sorry,” he says.

She tilts her head, considering him with a slightly amused air. “You can’t control the general public.”

“Still,” Max replies, because the point is it’s supposed to be a nice night out and instead he feels a bit like he’s a specimen on display- and the kid isn’t even really focusing on _him_. He doesn’t know how she can stand it.

She shrugs, a bit of tightness around her eyes that belies her apparent unconcern. “A rude kid is the least of my problems,” she says, and then her gaze softens a little. “I’m sorry it’s bothering you.”

It’s his turn to shrug and then he forces himself to tilt his body away from the other table, doing his best to cut them out of his sight. He isn’t going to let some poorly-mannered child ruin one of the few nights they’ve managed to get without any of her girls needing her.

The kid doesn’t come up to their table after all, his parents dragging him away only a few minutes later.

It’s a small relief, but as she’s taking away the check their waitress chirps “That is _so_ clever!” when Furiosa holds their take-away bag in the crook of her left elbow, as if it’s some grand new thing instead of frankly a pretty ordinary way to carry something.

Furiosa gives her a frosty look and says flatly, “Thanks. I came up with it myself.”

“So clever,” the server repeats, seemingly oblivious to her tone. “I can barely keep hold of everything I need to and I _have_ both hands!”

Max glances between the two of them and decides he doesn’t want to know where this could lead. “C’mon,” he says to Furiosa, reaching out to put two fingers on her arm to cue her away. She shrugs off the light touch with a jerk like she’s going to stay and keep talking with the waitress, but then he hears her take a breath and she turns to follow him towards the exit without another word.

He shares a look with her once they’re away, and she shakes her head with a rolling sigh.

“Let’s just get back to your place,” she says.

They’d decided to walk, of course, and as they head down the street he’s bracing himself for something else to happen because it seems like that sort of night. Another person seeing him with Furiosa and Dog and demanding to know if he has a fetish for cripples, maybe, or congratulating them for pairing off together instead of forcing ‘normal people’ to have to put up with their imperfect bodies.

Max heaves a sigh of relief when they get to his front door and nothing’s happened. She sends him a wry look of commiseration and leans her hip against the doorjamb as he gets his keys into the lock, hand reaching down to toy with the plastic bag on her arm.

“You’d think I’d be used to it by now,” Furiosa says.

“Nnn,” he hums with a shrug, finally getting the door open. “You don’t get used to assholes.”

Dog bounds inside and makes a bee-line for his crate, about as tired of people as Max feels.

“They weren’t even assholes,” she says, letting him get Dog settled while she puts the leftover into his fridge. In a high, mocking voice Furiosa repeats, “ _So clever_!” and then gives a disgusted scoff.

Max walks over and puts his hand on her lower back, unsure if this is a ‘distract’ or a ‘let vent’ sort of a situation.

She sighs, the noise laden with frustration, and visibly forces herself to relax her posture. “Sorry,” she says, and rubs her hand over her face. “It’s been a long day.”

“Tell me about it?”

Furiosa regards him for a moment, her body slowly losing some of the tenseness naturally. “Guy came into the store,” she says as she starts walking over to the couch, shucking her shoes along the way. “Really trying to fill out his bingo card, you know? I can’t help him find his fucking cabinet hinges because I’m a woman, because I’m a cripple, because I’m a dyke, because I’m not Christian- just, _everything_.”

Max frowns. “Ace wouldn’t let you rip him a new one?”

“Of course I told him to fuck off,” she says with a dismissive wave. “But then someone else came in with kids and they had a million questions about my arm, and I still haven’t found a good replacement sock so I’m rubbed raw, and the girls-” she blows out a sharp breath. “It’s just been a day.”

He hums in sympathy and reaches out; she shuffles closer to him and he wraps a one-armed hug around her. “I’m sorry,” he says, and brushes a kiss to her head, freshly buzzed hair prickly under his lips.

“Yeah,” Furiosa agrees. “Got better when I saw you, though.”

Hearing things like that never fails to make his chest fill with warmth, especially because actually _hearing_ it is rare. He knows now that she likes spending time with him, or else she’d simply be somewhere else, but neither of them is particularly good about saying instead of just doing.

Max squeezes her shoulder and she turns to face him more, sliding an arm over his shoulder, hand moving to rest on the back of his head. He takes the cue gladly and leans in to kiss her, some part of him still not entirely used to the idea that he _can_.

“I can think of a few ways to make it even better,” he tells her, hands wrapping around the curve of her hips. “Take your mind off.”

“Yeah?” Furiosa says, moving to straddle his lap.

He hums affirmatively and tastes her lips again before going for the spot below her ear that always makes her sigh, glad he’d remembered to shave so he doesn’t have to worry about giving her beard burn. She does sigh, and pushes herself up against him in a sinuous roll, arms linking behind his head to tug his mouth back to hers.

It isn’t long before he can feel himself getting hard from this, the heavy warmth of her body pressing down against him, the promise of her spread thighs.

“I think,” she says in between kisses that are rapidly growing more heated, hands starting to roam under clothing, “we should head for the bedroom.”

Max hums a question; the couch is right here, and it isn’t as if they haven’t done plenty on it before.

She pulls away enough to look him in the eye. “I’m not having sex in the same room as the dog.”

Ah. “He’s a dog,” he says, “He doesn’t care.” Dog’s probably sleeping, truth be told, and even if he isn’t he’s never much cared about the various strange things humans sometimes do.

“I care,” Furiosa replies with a look that tells him she has no plans to compromise if he tries to argue further.

“Bed’s better anyway,” he says easily, wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her along when he stands up.

She laughs a little at that as she gets her feet under her, ruffling her hand through his hair when she turns to head for the bedroom. Max follows on her heels, pulling his shirt off as soon as the door’s closed (Dog had once stuck his nose past the threshold; he isn’t taking the chance tonight) and then making to get hers as well.

She never dresses up overly much for their dates- it isn’t as if there’s any place in town really worth dressing up to go to, anyway- but he likes that she sometimes wears pretty underwear, bits of lace or ribbons or colors that stand out on her pale skin. It feels like Furiosa’s dressing up just for him, a secret that can’t be seen from under her clothes.

He mouths at her breasts through tonight’s thin lace, nipples hardening against the fabric as she makes pleased noises.

Max reaches around her back for the clasp on auto-pilot before remembering that she usually wears front-opening bras, and before he corrects for the mistake her hand is already there, unhooking the closure for him. Watching the deft motion makes him wonder for a split-second if it isn’t a personal preference so much as an accommodation for having a single hand, but then it doesn’t matter because her chest is all the more enticing for being bare and he goes back to kissing her skin.

She pushes down her pants, squirming on the mattress under him, and he ducks back up to kiss her mouth before moving to pull her jeans all the way off, sliding them and her underwear down her legs until she’s entirely naked.

“You need to be less dressed,” she tells him, tugging at the loose end of his belt.

Max agrees, and peels himself out of his clothes as quickly as he can. He has to stop and be careful unbuckling his brace, but the rest comes off easily. It’s not particularly a surprise when Furiosa tumbles them so he’s on his back and she’s crouched above him, hand planted next to his head and stump on his chest. He wraps an arm around her middle to bring her down close enough for him to kiss and she sighs into it, rocking her hips against him.

“What do you want?” he asks her, hand reaching down to cup her ass, encouraging her to stay close. His dick’s rubbing in the crease of her thigh, hard and ready to go, but he can’t tell if she’s even really wet yet.

She regards him for a moment, her eyes bright and sharp enough that his own gaze skitters briefly away, and then pulls off of him.

Max can’t help the disappointed noise that’s drawn out of him at the action.

“Right now,” she says, and he watches her grab a condom out of the box on his bedside table, “you’re going to fuck me.” Seeing no objection on his face she tosses the packet his way, and he tears it open to roll over his dick.

“Lube?” he asks as she moves back over to him. Normally they don’t go straight to this; he likes making her come on his fingers and lips first, likes having her so worked up she’s dripping before he enters her.

Furiosa shakes her head and he raises an eyebrow, but says nothing as she settles back over him- she knows her body best, after all. She does grab one of his hands and sucks two of his fingers into her mouth while he groans at the unexpected sensation, then pulls them back out covered in spit. The intent is clear enough that he doesn’t need her to guide them down to her pussy, taking the initiative to slide his fingers against her.

She sighs in relief when he starts circling around her clit, spreading her legs wide on either side of his torso as she straddles him. He only barely gets to finger her before she’s moving back, taking hold of his dick to line up with the entrance of her cunt.

Max reaches to keep his fingers on her clit and rests the other on her hip, groaning in unison with her when she starts to sink down onto him. She works herself open in slow rolling movements, sinuous. Taking her time.

He rocks his hips against her but doesn’t attempt to put any force into the motion, content to let her do the work as she starts riding him in earnest, long slow movements up and down. Furiosa stays up on her knees, hand coming to rest on his belly but the rest of her pulled away, rising over him.

“I don’t need two hands for _this_ ,” she says, tone halfway serious.

“Mmm,” Max groans in reply. “Think y’re managing just fine.”

She smiles down at him with bared teeth and rolls her hips, squeezing down around him until he can’t help but jerk up into her. She moans and speeds up her rhythm, fucking herself down onto him with purpose, the lines of her body taut as she flexes above him.

He’s going to make sure this part of her day is great, he decides; he’s going to fuck her as long as she wants and then see how many orgasms he can draw from her with his mouth and his hands. He always likes making Furiosa feel good when they’re together, likes seeing her get sweaty and breathless with pleasure and prides himself on the fact that he’s able to make it happen at all, but he’s going to make a mission of it tonight.

He tightens the focus of his fingers on her clit, rubbing over the hood the way he’s learned she likes best when there’s something inside of her.

Max is rewarded with a moan, and he keeps stroking and rubbing in time with the way her hips are moving until she’s gasping out his name and coming, her pussy clenching around him in heated waves. She’s shaky on her knees now but she keeps moving through it, until she finally shudders and comes to a rest sitting fully on his dick.

“You still good?” she says, and he hums in reply.

Furiosa smiles at him, skin flushed, and before she begins to move again he reaches up to grab hold of her middle. “Flip?” he asks.

She nods, and rolls with him when he moves so that she’s on the mattress below him. Somehow his dick doesn’t leave her and he uses the momentum from the move to push into her heavily, glad it was a relatively good day for his knee.

He starts with the same languid pace she’d been using but it isn’t more than a few strokes before she’s telling him to go faster, wrapping a leg around his hip to hold herself open and encourage him closer. Max pauses to reposition himself and then obliges, thrusting faster and then harder until she’s moaning without any more directions for him to follow.

Her own hand is down between them touching herself now, and since she isn’t so far away now he kisses all the sensitive places he can reach, always just shy of leaving a visible mark. She pushes up into him, rocking her hips and arching her back, and when he feels her start to come around his dick again he works to draw it out for her, sucks at one of her nipples and keeps up the pace of his movements until she cries out raggedly, breath hitching as she rolls through her climax.

Furiosa takes her hand off herself to grab the back of his neck, tugging him from her chest to bite at his lips instead, kissing wildly. He grunts out something that’s meant as a warning because she knows how he feels about kissing while he’s inside her and feels her give a deliberate squeeze; seconds later he’s tipping over the edge, hips stuttering against hers as he comes.

“Not fair,” he complains when he starts getting his breath back, forehead resting against hers, “I had a plan.” Holding out much longer would have been hard but not impossible, and he knows she likes the feeling of him being inside her enough to have wanted to keep going for her.

“Oh you did, did you.” Her voice is amused, her eyes soft when they meet his. He puts his hand against the side of her face and she nuzzles into it just a little.

“Mhm. Now I have’ta improvise,” Max says, and kisses her again before she can reply.

He moves his lips to her jaw, her throat. “You’ll manage,” she says with confidence when her mouth is free, “I have faith.”

He hums and continues making his way down her body, touching her with as much skill as he can until any lingering thoughts of her bad day are far, far away.


End file.
